


beam me up georgie

by zojnks



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Gen, Getting Together, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Star Trek - Freeform, Starfleet Academy, hope ya little nerds like this, ill add tags as i need them, lol it’s Star Trek so they’ll probably go to space too who knows, mainly just them trying to get their shit together at the academy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29672727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zojnks/pseuds/zojnks
Summary: Dream, a cocky command track cadet, and George, a stuck-up Vulcan communication track cadet, have always been annoyances to the other. Still, they can’t ignore the attraction that always seems to bring them together. Late night make outs and hook ups at parties send their “let’s be enemies” plan spiraling and their days of pining after each other in communications class add to the confusion.Or“Dream’s smile becomes a smirk and he leans down to whisper into George’s ear.‘Communication track in a 400 xenolinguistics class?’He can feel George shiver beneath him.‘You must have a talented tongue.’”
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Karl Jacobs, Karl Jacobs & Sapnap
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	beam me up georgie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lolololololol never thought i would be one of those fuckers writing dnf fanfiction but there’s a first time for everything i guess. hope you enjoy!

Dream races up the front steps of the Academy, sweat dripping down the back of his neck. It’s an unusually hot day in San Francisco and his uniform itches at his skin as he tries his hardest to make it to his lecture on time. As a third year command track cadet, he has to take a 400 level xenolinguistics class and this 8am had been the only one available. As he skids through the halls and bangs into every other cadet in the building, he curses the Academy, his academic sponsor, and his alarm clock. Spotting his class just up ahead, he chants through every curse he knows in every language he knows that his strict professor doesn’t slam the door on him.

Finally, he arrives, out of breath and panting, and slips through the door just as his professor moves to close it.

“Cadet Dream,” his professor says, tone dripping in disappointment. “Tardiness will not be tolerated in my class.”

Despite her being over a foot shorter than him, he shrinks back in fear and nods his head quickly.

“It–it won’t happen again, Professor Oaken, I swear.”

“That’s what they all say,” she replies before waving him off.

He collapses into a seat at the back of the room, hardly taking notice of who he’s sitting near. She starts class and he’s so focused on pulling out his materials and getting ready that he doesn’t realize the person sitting next to him is trying to get his attention. Dream turns and his eyes fall upon pointy ears and soft brown hair. 

“Clay,” George says. “Surprised you’re taking this class. Did you have to sit right next to me?”

Dream sighs, already feeling his annoyance building.

“George,” he replies coolly. “400s are a requirement for command track. Captains need to be well–rounded.”

George barely manages to cover up his derisive snort. Dream rolls his eyes.

“You communication track people wouldn’t get it, I guess.”

Dream turns back to his paper and waits a few seconds before glancing back at George. The older man’s brow is furrowed and his cheeks are red—in embarrassment or anger, Dream can’t tell.

“At least I’m not a brash prick,” he grumbles.

Dream just lets out a quiet chuckle before turning back to Professor Oaken’s lecture. He really can’t afford to fail this class.

-

Dream steps out of the Academy’s doors and into the bright California sunshine. Despite its oppressive heat this morning, it’s warming power is just what he needs after spending three hours locked inside an air conditioned lecture hall. 

He jogs down the steps, backpack slapping against his back as he takes in the scene before him. Cadets are stretched out on the grass, all angling to catch a bit of the rare sun. There are clusters all over the place and Dream even spots a couple of his friends among them. He waves at them before continuing his walk back to his dorm, intent on dropping off his backpack and changing into civilian clothes before heading out to lunch with his roommate, Sapnap. He doesn’t have any more classes today; Friday is his slow day, and thank god for that. Sapnap’s friend Karl is throwing a party tonight, and Dream plans to get absolutely wasted. 

Dream shoves the door open to his shared apartment, groaning at the awful rap coming through Sapnap’s door. He drops his bag next to the front door and stalks over to his best friend’s room.

“I get that you have a thing for vintage music,” he yells. “But does it have to be 2010s mumble rap?”

“Hell yeah it does!” Sapnap shouts back and turns his music up even louder.

Dream sighs and prepares himself for the noise complaints they’re going to receive from their neighbors. He heads into his room and strips off his uniform, gently resting the red clothes on the back of his chair. Despite all his bravado and pride, he does have respect for Starfleet and what it stands for; otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. He glances at the small pin on his jacket that symbolizes the command track and smiles to himself. He knows he’s picked the right career.

He pulls out khakis and a green sweatshirt from his closet and pairs them with some mismatched socks and dirty black vans. He changes and then poses in front of the mirror. He looks good. The khakis compliment his ass and the sweatshirt looks good against his tanned skin. He turns away and grabs a simple necklace from his bedside table before heading out.

“Sap!” He calls. “Almost ready?”

“In a minute!”

Dream grabs a water bottle from the fridge while he waits for Sapnap and checks his PADD for any new messages. He smiles to himself as he sees one from Karl.

 **Karl Jacobs**  
party 2night get ready to turn the fuck UP dreamie 

**Clay Dream**  
karl i actually hate you  
nah lol im excited for tn   
who’s coming

 **Karl Jacobs**  
ur boy is gonna be there👀👀👀

 **Clay Dream**  
my boy????  
who tf is my boy

 **Karl Jacobs**  
oh idk  
brown hair, pointy ears, tight ass

 **Clay Dream**  
GEORGE IS NOT MY BOY

 **Karl Jacobs**  
u didn’t deny the tight ass LMFAO  
caught in 4K buddy

Dream hears Sapnap’s door creak open and types out one last message to Karl before sliding his PADD into his pocket.

 **Clay Dream**  
fuck you

“Ready to go, dude?” He asks.

Sapnap’s signature bandana is tied around his head and his vans match Dream’s. His smirk, however, catches Dream off guard.

They walk out of the apartment together and Dream bumps him with his shoulder.

“What’s the face for, idiot?”

Sapnap giggles before turning to Dream with a shit eating grin.

“Karl told me your boy is gonna be there tonight.”

Dream groans. “My boy?! Where is everyone getting this ‘my boy’ nonsense from? George is _not_ my boy.”

This only makes Sapnap laugh harder and Dream punches him in the shoulder. They’re starting to get weird looks from people on the street.

“I didn’t even mention your boy George, you nimrod. How’d you know it was him?”

They turn the corner to head onto the street, their favorite cafe up ahead. It takes all of Dream’s willpower not to tackle Sapnap into the nearby alley and beat that grin off his face.

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth. “Karl was telling me about it, too. And for the last time, he’s not my boy!”

Perhaps he says that last bit too loudly, as they start getting some angry stares from the people around him. He drops his voice to a lower tone before turning back to Sapnap.

“Nick. He’s not my boy. Will you please just drop it?”

The younger man must see something in Dream’s eyes because he changes the subject to what they’re getting for lunch. Dream sighs, grateful for the new conversation. Tonight is going to be a long one.

-

They arrive at the cafe to find what seems like half the Academy already there. They spot some of their friends in the corner and place their orders at the counter before going to sit with them.

“Dream! How’s that xenolinguistics class going? Failing already?”

Dream snorts in reply.

“Shut the fuck up, Wilbur. Everyone else seems to have forgotten when you failed Intro to Piloting in first year, but I haven’t. You crashed the ship 47 times during the final. Forty seven.”

Wilbur just laughs him off. Niki sits next to him, focused on writing an essay, while Wilbur’s younger brother Tommy sits with his best friend Tubbo a few seats away, playing a video game on his PADD.

“Playing babysitter again today, Will?” Sapnap asks. 

“Yeah,” Wilbur replies with a sigh. “Dad’s busy with Academy work and you know Techno’s off planet. Tommy hasn’t been too bad today, though. Probably cause Niki’s here.”

Niki looks up at the mention of her name and flashes them a small smile before going back to work.

“How’s Phil doing? I heard they’re thinking of promoting him to admiral soon,” Dream asks.

He’s genuinely curious and eager to know the answer. Phil Watson was the best professor he ever had in his time at Starfleet and it’s about time he earned some recognition.

“Yeah, that’s what everyone has been saying. Dad hasn’t mentioned anything, but I think it would be nice for him to get the promotion. Plus, it would put him on Earth with Tommy. He’d be getting the Academy admiralty, if he got any of them.”

Dream nods and is about to respond when the waiter comes by with their food. He sets down Dream’s massive sandwich with homemade chips and Dream almost drools at the sight. He can see Sapnap do the same next to him.

“One thing I will definitely miss in space,” he says before taking a big bite,”is the food.”

They continue their conversation about Phil and the academy for a little while before Wilbur changes the subject.

“Excited for the party tonight, guys?”

Niki finally joins the conversation after finishing putting away her school supplies.

“I’m really excited, actually. Karl promised that it was going to be a good one since it’s the start of the year. Something like a welcome back kick off.”

Dream smiled faintly at those words.

“Niki, if Karl promised it was going to be a good one, that means it’s going to be a great one. Jimmy must be going all out.”

Sapnap nodded, his mouth full of sandwich. 

“Mhmm,” he mumbles through his food. “Karl’s parties always go hella crazy, so this one must be insane.”

The party is their main subject of conversation for the rest of lunch. It seems like every single cadet is extremely excited for it. Dream can’t wait.

-

The bass beat pounds through Dream’s limbs in time with his heart. He’s already a couple shots in and feeling it, but Karl was right. This is one fucking amazing party. Jimmy had rented out an entire warehouse in Fisherman’s Wharf and the party had a full service bar and tons of food from a bunch of different planets. 

Dream stumbled out of the dancing crowd and towards the bar, intent on getting a sugary drink to make up for the burn in his throat from his previous shots. He slides in between two couples and calls over the bartender. 

“A lemon drop, please,” he calls out. 

The bartender nods in confirmation and Dream lets his attention drift to the crowd. It’s full of people, all dancing and rolling to the beat. It’s like a wave, going up and down and side to side in time with the music. Dream itches to get back out there; he has so much pent up energy all the time and dancing is the perfect excuse to let loose. 

He loses focus on the crowd when he feels someone jostle his side. He looks down and sees a familiar mop of dark brown hair. His face breaks into a smug smile.

“A party, George, really? Aren’t you too pretty and smart for these kinds of things?”

George glances up at him and his eyes are already annoyed. Dream’s tongue is loose from the alcohol and he didn’t mean to let the compliment slip, but boy if doesn’t enjoy the light green blush currently gracing the older man’s cheeks.

“Clay. Surprised you aren’t already drunk off your arse.”

Dream laughs and George just rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I’m almost there, Gogy. Sure you don’t want anything to drink? Maybe it’ll get rid of that stick up your ass.”

George, to his utter surprise, calls over the bartender and orders a chocolate martini. Dream feels something foreign heat up in his gut at the way George’s eyes glint in the strobe lights when he turns back around to face Dream.

“A chocolate martini,” Dream chokes out. “Interesting choice.”

George is smug when he responds, like he knows he’s having an effect on Dream when Dream himself doesn’t even know what he’s feeling. 

“Half human, half Vulcan. It’s like getting drunk twice as fast.”

Dream chokes on his own spit at the words and starts coughing. George raises one of his perfect eyebrows and leans against the counter to watch Dream struggle.

“Frog in your throat?”

“I’m f–fine,” Dream wheezes out.

His head spins as he looks at George under the party lights and feels the bass beat under his skin. He wonders why his drink is taking so long. 

“Seriously, though, Jimmy’s party? Why’d you even want to come?”

“Can’t a man have a little fun, Dream?”

The way George says his last name makes Dream float on air. George has always called him by his first name for some reason. This is the first time he’s ever called him by his last name and Dream wants to hear it again and again forever.

“Have you already had something to drink, Mr. Found?”

Dream recuperates from whatever overtook him earlier and slides closer to George as they talk. He takes note of the way the green blush on George’s face grows as he gets closer.

“Maybe, Dream. I’ve got friends here too, you know.”

Dream does know. Despite being nemeses in their classes for years, they run in similar circles and he’s pretty sure Karl himself invited George to the party.

Their conversation gets interrupted when the bartender comes back with both of their drinks. Normally, Dream would down it in one gulp and run back to the dance floor, but he’s interested to see where this conversation with George goes. 

He takes a sip of his drink and his mouth waters pleasantly at the contrasting sweet and sour flavors. 

“What’d you get?” George asks as he takes a sip of his own drink.

Dream can’t help it if his eyes wander to George’s lips, slightly stained from the chocolate drink.

“A lemon drop.”

George hums in response and takes another sip. Dream wonders what his lips taste like, then catches himself. He’s never thought about George like this before. Why now?

“How’s your drink?” He asks, desperate to move the conversation away from himself.

“Oh, it’s pretty good. I’ve already had a couple tonight.”

Now that Dream’s looking, he can spot the signs of intoxication all over George. Blown out pupils, leaning against the counter for balance, words slightly slurred—it’s all there.

It’s intoxicating for Dream, too, to see the usually put–together George slowly unraveling. 

Dream decides to do something. He downs the rest of his drink in one go.

“Wanna dance?”

George’s eyes widen before he knocks his own drink back and nods. 

Dream offers him a hand and leads him out to the middle of the dance floor. Bodies push and pull all around them and the smell of sweat permeates the air. 

All Dream can think about, however, is how George looks in his arms as they move to the beat. The song is pretty fast and they’re both just swaying and bopping up and down, but Dream enjoys it anyway. 

The multicolored lights flash across George’s face and accentuate the contrast between his pale skin and blushing cheeks. Dream can’t tell if it’s because of their proximity or the alcohol, and he’s itching to find out.

The song switches and everyone around them goes wild. Dream tugs George closer and pulls them flush against each other. Now, every time one of them moves, the other feels it. George’s blush grows.

Dream’s smile becomes a smirk and he leans down to whisper into George’s ear.

“Communication track in a 400 xenolinguistics class?”

He can feel George shiver beneath him. 

“You must have a talented tongue.”

Dream pulls back and enjoys the dark hunger in George’s eyes. He’s not sure what they’re doing right now, and he’ll probably regret it tomorrow when he’s sober, but for right now he lets himself indulge in it.

“Clay...” George whispers, dragging his name out like a prayer.

“George...” he replies, mocking his tone with a wicked glint in his eyes.

As the beat crescendos and the lights flash a brilliant blue, Dream closes the gap between them and presses a short kiss to George’s lips.

George hesitates for a second before moaning slightly and melting into him. His hands wrap around the back of Dream’s neck and tug him closer. Dream winds his hands into George’s soft hair, and when he moans again, takes the opportunity to explore his mouth.

He’s barely cognizant of the crowd around them at this point and has lost himself in George. George tugs on the hair on his neck and Dream kisses him harder. George is so delicate beneath his touch, all breathy moans and small noises that feel like they’re just for Dream. 

This is a bad idea on so many levels, yet Dream can’t help himself from drinking in every noise George makes. He commits the way he tastes to memory, like chocolate and alcohol and something uniquely _George_. 

Dream pulls back with a sigh and a smirk. George looks absolutely wrecked.

“I was right,” he says. “You do have a talented tongue.”

George blushes even harder and swats at Dream’s arm. It feels like they’re lost in the moment and Dream takes a second to gaze into George’s beautiful eyes before they kiss again. 

The moment is ruined, however, when someone smacks into them. It’s a random science cadet, his shirt half unbuttoned and his drink sloshing around in his cup. It cracks their little reality, however, and Dream can see the change in George’s demeanor immediately. 

The older man disentangles himself from Dream’s arms and stumbles backwards. He almost falls, yet when Dream reaches out to catch him, he recoils as if he’s been burnt. The blissed out look in his eyes has been replaced with regret. Dream knows he’s fucked up.

“Cl–Drea–Clay, please, please, stay away,” George says, voice breaking. 

Dream stands there helplessly. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong. 

-

Dream wakes up with his face pressed against the cold floor of the warehouse. He faintly hears a vacuum running behind him, but his head is pounding too hard for him to focus on anything. Groaning, he shifts into a seated position and slowly opens his eyes. He winces at the bright light shining through the warehouse’s skylights before giving in and closing his eyes again.

He stays like that, slumped against a wall with his eyes closed, for god knows how long before he hears Sapnap’s voice. 

“Dream? Dream? Ohhhh Dreeaamm!” 

Dream groans and rubs his eyes before opening them to find Sapnap crouched in front of him. He’s wearing half a cadet uniform with a science officer shirt on top, and at Dream’s confused glance, he waves him off.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you later.”

Sapnap reaches for Dream’s hands and pulls him up, his arm already around Dream’s shoulders when the blonde sags against him.

“Holy hell, Dream, what did you drink last night?”

Dream winces as they limp out of the warehouse and into the bright sunlight.

“I really don’t fucking know. I think I downed some Aldorian ale before doing some shots...?”

Sapnap sighs and readjusts his grip as they slowly make their way back towards the Academy. Dream can feel his friend tense beneath him and he knows what’s coming.

“After you, uh, you and your boy had a little make out session?”

“Shut the fuck up,” is all Dream can manage before he slumps over unconscious from exhaustion and his awful, alien-ale induced hangover.

-

Sunday is no better than Saturday. Dream usually rests in his dorm and completes whatever work he has left from the previous week, but today he feels anxious. He can’t be locked up in his room all day.

So, he grabs his PADD and a warm jacket and makes his way down to the old Presidio. There’s a coffee shop there that makes a perfect iced mocha, and even though San Francisco is usually cold as shit, Dream still loves his iced coffee. He’s a Florida boy at heart, after all.

Dream dumps his stuff onto the nearest table after picking up his coffee. It’s a two seater, thank god, so hopefully no one will ask to sit across from him. He doesn’t think he can handle any social interaction today. His head is still spinning—literally and metaphorically—from Friday night and he needs to focus on his xenolinguistics homework. 

He takes a sip of his mocha before opening up the documents he needs for his homework on his PADD. He reads through them a couple times, marking interesting things and scratching down notes in the margins. It’s a good class and he knows Professor Oaken is one of the best in her field, but at the same time, xenolinguistics has always been his worst subject. As he gets further into his reading, he starts to feel more and more lost.

Sighing, Dream glances up and checks the time on the clock across from him. Almost two hours have passed and he’s only halfway through the assigned reading. His mocha is finished and he feels defeated.

He gets up and decides to get a refill, and maybe a baked good this time too. Standing in line, he lets his eyes wander and he spots a couple of cadets he knows from his classes. He wonders if they’re struggling with homework too.

“Can I help you?” The girl behind the counter asks, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Oh, yeah,” he replies with an awkward chuckle. “Can I get a refill on this iced mocha, this time with a double shot? And, uh, also that scone. The strawberry one.”

She reaches over and grabs the scone he’s pointing at before sliding it into a bag and handing it to him. She types in his coffee order and hands him a slip with a number on it before waving him off with a small, tired small. He understands how she feels.

Dream wanders back to his table with his scone clutched in hand, his mind focused on his homework. He really needs to figure out when Professor Oaken is holding office hours because he knows he’s desperately going to need them.

He sits down and is about to open up his PADD again when someone slides into the seat across from him.

“Quackity?” He asks, slightly confused.

“Hey man, yeah, it’s me. I, um, just wanted to give you a heads up since I saw you here and all, but maybe try and stay out of George’s way? He’s on a bit of a warpath right now, if you catch my drift.”

Dream did not, in fact, catch Quackity’s drift but he nodded along anyway like he did. Quackity smiled at that and gave him a quick thumbs up before glancing around.

“I’m not really supposed to be here, ya know, being a supportive friend and all that, but George is kinda scary when he gets angry so I thought I’d warn you. See you around, man!”

With that, Quackity’s out of the chair and out the door, a half drunk iced tea in his hands. Dream shakes his head at the other boy; he’s never been able to figure him out. Still, even though he doesn’t quite understand Quackity’s warning, he garnered enough to be wary of George. 

Suddenly, the girl calls his number and places his drink on the counter. Licking his lips at the thought of another mocha, Dream gets up and grabs his coffee. He’s going to need it if he has to get through another few hours of xenolinguistics homework.

-

Dream slowly blinks himself awake. The sun shining through his blinds is brighter than it usually is on a Monday morning.

Oh shit.

He bolts upright in bed and scrambles for his PADD. Unlocking it, he checks the time and curses himself.

9:30.

He has a lab in ten minutes.

He hops out of bed and pulls on his cadet uniform, silently praying the wrinkles aren’t as bad as he thinks they are. He slides his PADD into his backpack and grabs a banana on his way out of the apartment. Sapnap is already long gone as he’s taking an 8am programming class for his second year science track requirements. 

Dream books it across campus and arrives out of breath outside the lab doors. He takes a second to compose himself before slowly pushing the door open.

It creaks and screams in protest at his entrance.

Professor Oaken turns and levels him with a disappointed expression over her glasses.

“Tardy again, Cadet Dream?” She clicks her tongue. “I suggest you start setting an earlier alarm. And, perhaps, investing in an iron.”

Dream feels like he’s going to melt out of pure embarrassment. He wishes he could be anywhere else but here right now.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Dream stumbles out a few apologies before turning and searching for an empty seat. The only one in the entire room is... right next to George.

 _This is officially the worst day on Earth_ , Dream decides. 

He slides into the seat next to George, ignoring how the other boy is pointedly not looking at him. Dream shrugs off his backpack and sets it on the floor, pulling out his PADD and a slightly banged up breakfast bar. 

Their seats are near the back of the lab room, and Dream is hoping the rows of computers in front of them will hide his snacking. He’s hungry and the banana he scarfed down on the run here was definitely not enough. 

Unfortunately, George hears the crinkling of the wrapper and turns around sharply.

“What are you doing?” He spits out.

Dream’s feels his face burn bright red and slowly turns to face the other boy. George is emotionless, cold even, not a hint of their usual shared humor in his eyes. Dream gulps.

“Uh, eating a snack?” He tries.

“I’m sure you saw the sign at the front of the room that says ‘No eating in the lab’. You’re going to get crumbs all over our computer. Plus, if Oaken catches you, she might kick you out of the class. After all, you’ve already been late twice.”

Dream sits in shock at the absolute word vomit coming from George’s mouth. The older boy usually never says this much to him at once. Dream decides to not tempt fate and shoves the breakfast bar back into his backpack. His rumbling stomach will just have to wait.

At the front of the room, Professor Oaken is rambling on about the program they’ll be using to intercept fake Romulan distress signals. Dream is half paying attention. Instead, he’s more focused on the boy next to him.

Dream is trying is hardest not to be obvious about his staring, but he knows he’s failed when George suddenly whips around and startles a few of the classmates around them. Thankfully, they’re far enough back that Oaken doesn’t seem to notice.

“What. Are. You. Looking. At. Me. For?”

Dream has two options on how to respond. He chooses the one which will probably win him a black eye.

“Is it illegal to admire beauty now?”  
  
As soon as the words come out of his mouth, he’s wincing in his mind. On the outside, his picture perfect smirk stays pasted onto his face.

George huffs and rolls his eyes before turning back to face the front. Dream decides he should probably pay attention, too. He’s lucky he didn’t get his face torn off just then.

“...so, the program will do most of the hard work, and you should be able to focus on your translation assignment. However, remember that further on in the semester, and once you’re onboard your ships, the computer will not always be around to help you. Alright, get started.”

Dream immediately grabs the mouse and keyboard, ready to start up the program. However, someone else has grabbed ahold of the other side of the keyboard. Dream lightly tugs it his way. George lets out a groan of annoyance.

“I’m on the communications track, Clay, not you! Just let me do this.”

George tugs it toward his side, but Dream holds on tight. 

“And this class has a 25% participation grade. We have to work together, _George_.”

He says the other man’s name mockingly, a hidden depth of anger twisting his words until he can barely even recognize them as coming for himself. His tiny moment of shock at his sudden rudeness is the only opening George needs, and the Vulcan wrenches the keyboard out of Dream’s grasp.

Dream sits there, hands clutching thin air, and watches George’s eyes. He can see the anger in them. 

He doesn’t know why they rile each other up so much, but it’s exhausting. Dream decides to let George do the first part of the assignment. Then, he can hop on at the end, do some last second translations, and still earn the participation points.

The lab is almost halfway done when Dream finally works up the courage to ask George if he can finish off the translations. His Romulan is a bit rusty, but he’s been watching George work this whole time, slender fingers flying over the keyboard as the Vulcan translated line after difficult line like it was nothing. Although he was focused on George half the time, watching his translations helped jog his memory.

“Can I do some now?” He mumbles out.

George pauses, and turns. His hair is slightly ruffled from where he ran his hands through it on a particularly tough translation. Dream thinks it looks good.

“I said, uh, can I do some now? I really need those participation points.”

George sighs and slides the keyboard and mouse over to Dream. 

Dream logs onto his own account and runs through the translations. He stumbles a bit on the first few, but soon finds his rhythm. He’s so focused on figuring out the translations he barely notices when Professor Oaken steps back up to the front of the room and claps her hands together. It takes a small, barely there tap on the shoulder form George to snap him out of his focus.

He throws a small smile to the older man, but finds he’s already turned to face the front of the room. Dream frowns, hating this new hot and cold side of George. He thinks he almost liked it better when George was just cold all the time.

“We’ll now begin the listening portion of the lab. It doesn’t matter where you are with the textual translations, the program is infinite and it was mainly meant to help settle you into doing high level distress translations. Now is where the real challenge begins. You’ll have to work together as a team on this. Imagine you’re already aboard your favorite ship. You’ll have to do teamwork up in space, too, don’t forget it. You may begin.”

Dream reaches down into his bag to grab his headphones, then quickly realizes in his haste to get out the door, he forgot them on his desk.

Wincing, he leans back up and turns to George. 

“Hey George, I forgot my headphones at home, so uh....” Dream trails off, already losing his confidence in the face of George’s death stare.

“Do ya think we could share yours, maybe?”

George stares at him for a few moments. It seems like the other man can’t even believe that Dream would be so stupid. 

Dream drums his fingers on the desk, nerves getting the better of him. The sound seems to snap George out of his hatred induced funk and he sighs, pulling out the left ear bud and handing it to Dream.

Dream awkwardly scoots his chair closer to George so they could both listen comfortably. George hits play on the program and the Romulan speaks so fast that it flies in one of Dream’s ears and out the other.

George, meanwhile, is already typing out a translation. Dream didn’t even comprehend what the message said.

George hits play on the next one. Dream pays more attention this time, and catches a few keywords, but by no means does he understand the full message. When he looks at the screen, George has already submitted their answer. 

The older man reaches to press play again, but Dream shoots out a hand and grabs his wrist. George yanks his arm away as if he’s been burned and levels Dream with another death stare. 

“Can you l-let me do the next one?” Dream stutters out.

“Fine. But only because you need the points.”

Dream presses play and squeezes his eyes shut so he can focus only on the Romulan coming through George’s headphones. He catches the major gist of the message and types out what he thinks is an okay translation. Glancing over at George, he can see the other man does not agree.

“That bad, huh?” Dream asks with a small laugh, trying to lighten the moment with some humor.

“It’s... okay. Personally, I would change some things to make it more readable and more true to the original Romulan, but it gets the job done.”

Dream is getting whiplash from George’s intense mood changes. He doesn’t respond to George’s comment and instead turns back to the work.

George, surprisingly, lets Dream finish the rest of the translations. He adds a few comments here and there about what he would change, but for the most part leaves Dream to make his own mistakes. At least this time they weren’t being graded on accuracy. 

Finally, it’s time to end the lab. Dream types out one last word before submitting their assignment and exiting out of the program. He packs up his stuff, making sure not to crush his breakfast bar. He’s about to stand up and head out when he hears Professor Oaken call for everyone’s attention.

“Cadets, just wanted to let you all know: your seat partner from today will be your same partner for the rest of the semester. I hope you all get to know each other well. Class dismissed!”

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was NOT beta read, but if you are interested in being my beta, i would love to have you! tell me ur thoughts below, i’m working on the next chapter rn and would love to hear your opinions abt this one. also, let me know if u would like to see anyone from the smp pop up :]] see ya next time!


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